You’ve grown accustomed to the cold silence of your marriage with Mattheo. From the very beginning, he made it clear how little you mattered to him.

Every time you came into the room, he’d leave. Every time you tried to talk to him, he’d shut you down with nothing more than a glance, if that. And what hurt most of all—he never once responded to your flirtatious advances. You’d hoped that maybe with time things would change. But months passed, and the empty space between you only widened.

You’re soaking in a tub filled with bubbles, when you hear the door creak open. Mattheo steps into the bathroom, fresh from a Death Eater meeting, his expression hard as usual. You freeze at the sight of him, unsure why he’s even here.

But tonight, something is different. His gaze moves over your bubble covered body in the tub, lingering longer than usual.

“You’re so damn sexy,” he murmurs, his voice low and breathless.

“You’re drunk,” you say, knowing that’s the only reason he’s talking to you like this. The scent of firewhiskey on his breath confirms it.

Mattheo moves closer, sitting on the edge of the tub. His fingers gently move a strand of hair from your face, trailing down your jaw until he lightly grasps your chin. His touch sends an uninvited shiver through you, confusing you even more.

“And you’re a slüt," he says without hesitation. "But in the morning, I’ll be sober.”

“Mattheo—” you start to protest, but before you can finish, his lips crash against yours. It’s sudden and completely unexpected. Your eyes widen, caught off guard by the intensity of his kiss.

You freeze, unsure whether to push him away or give in. This is Mattheo—your husband, the man who’s never shown you even a flicker of affection. The same man who’d barely looked at you, who treated you with cold indifference. And now, his lips are on yours, hungry and desperate, as if he’s been holding back for far too long.